Of foundation stones, a temptress

Yesterday

Of foundation stones, a temptress in the night, and ‘Joyita’

In the sixth and final extract from the memoirs of the late Charles William Whonsbon-Aston, Anglican Archdeacon Emeritus of Polynesia, he tells of his experiences in Western Samoa and Fiji in the years leading up to his retirement.

In July 1944 I decided to clamber up the steep side of Mt Vaea to visit the tomb of Robert Louis Stevenson. I cannot be said to be clairvoyant, yet something sud denly seemed to call me, who had never had any intention of climbing the hill behind Vailima, Stevenson’s old home.

Stevenson had died in 1894 and a voice said to me “1894- 1944” 50 years. With the whole world at war, this fiftieth anniversary of the death of Tusitala would be overlooked, save probably by a few ardent Stevensonians. Could we re member it in Samoa? With it came an answer to my problem of building the new church we needed. Remembering the bishop’s advice that the cool of a quiet Sunday evening was the best time to lay a foundation stone in the tropics, with now a feeling that this would be the answer, I rushed, practically slid down the steep declivity, with but one thought in my mind: “If the anniversary date of Decem ber 3 fell on a Sunday, it was a sure indication as to our course of action”. It did fall on Sunday.

So, the die was cast and we went ahead with the foundation stone laying. With no plans

drawn up, but a general idea of just where the northern comer of the prospective building would be, the stone was duly laid on Sunday, December 3, 1944, as the stone declared, “The Fiftieth Anniversary of the Falling As leep of Tusitala”.

Afioga Mata’afa, a friend of Stevenson’s at the time of his death, gave an excellent speech in Samoan and in English, and His Excellency Mr (later Sir) Alfred Turnbull made a further splendid oration when he laid the stone. Behind us as we sat through the proceedings the creek in which ‘R.L.S.’ was wont to bathe rippled along, and rising from it was Mt Vaea, its tomb almost directly above us. It was all, ceremony and surround ings, quiet and peaceful then we went to the hall for a tremendous tea, lavish in quanti ty and quality as only a Samoan feast can be. However, the heat

had overcome Mata’afa and we whisked him (if that is what one describes moving a man of his height and bulk) to a chair in the shelter of my house, where the administration of a little elixir from Stevenson’s fair land and a short rest restored him. • • • I called on Mata’afa one evening and suggested his young lad should come over to my place for the night, as the Boy Scouts, in which he was interested, though too young to join, would be meeting. Eagerly the lad made preparations and came with me. I had the scout troop leader’s young brother of the same age to stay the night with him. Little did I realise that they were, unwit tingly, to be my “guardian angels”.

I had moved my humble couch, using it as a day couch and a bed at night, in the narrow dining room section of the angle

of my verandah. The other arm of the angle, the office-cum “lounge”, was equally a passage way, that opened on to the front verandah, my “front door”.

The scouts’ meeting over, the two lads asked could they listen to the radio (in the “lounge” section, through the door from my bed). I read my night Office, then got ready for bed. Feeling it was time the lads moved off to their room, I looked in, to find them absolutely sound asleep on the floor. I arranged cushions to save them from bumping into the furniture, turned the light off and retired.

The house was quiet, flooded by the brilliance of the Samoan full moon that Rupert Brooke raved about. At the hour of mid night I heard a tapping on the “front door”. I sprang out of bed in time to see a slimly built figure

Mount Vaea outside Apia with the tomb of Robert Louis Stevenson, and Vailima, Stevenson’s house. These photographs are from about the time that Whonsbon-Aston climbed Mount Vaea and plann ed a new church. The house

was already greatly changed

from Stevenson’s time and has undergone many subsequent

changes.

weaving its way over the recum bent sleepers on the floor. A husky voice floated out to me on the strongly flavored breath of a damsel who certainly had “wine taken” “Don’t put the light on, don’t put the light on”.

And there she was, delight of many an old saint desirous of beating the old Devil, the temptress, a member of my choir, who had many friendly traits. She had even produced a son to a benighted gentleman, destined to be a belted knight.

My concern was that my “guar dian angels” the sleeping boy scouts on the floor should not be disturbed, for what a lovely tale could have been woven in the market places. I was quite sure the Good Lord would have treated her as He did Mary of Magdala. (She had many good points and I found later that my prognostications that one day she would become a happily wedded wife and mother were vindicated).

Tearfully she demanded “Why have they thrown me out?” Not being omniscient and lacking the facts, I had to let that one pass.

She sat beside me on my bed, asking for a cigarette, which, by chance (for I am not a smoker), I was able to supply. It was then a glass of water, as she snuggled more seductively and enticingly closer. We adjourned to the kitchen and the ice box. With

nymph, even more “lit up”, from the premises.

Within the clergy house the ‘guardian angels’. Providentially present, slumbered on. Who knows what shinanigans might have gone on had they not been there. Blessings on Ela, who sang so sweetly in the choir, her voluntary and willing contribu tion to the understanding Deity!! • • • Soon after, the administrator, Turnbull, now knighted, rang to say his successor. Colonel Voelcker (back to the military titles) anxious to get some idea of Pacific administration, would be visiting Fiji, Tonga and the Cook

supreme tact I was then able to shepherd her out on to the drive towards the front gate.

But here yet another danger awaited me, for it was now well after midnight and the brethren of the Masonic Lodge, their re velries finished, would be pas sing and what a vision for tomorrow’s gossips. There was the Chaplain of Western Samoa, in his pyjamas, brilliantly lit up in the great white pale glory of the tropic full moon, just the atmosphere for romance, escort ing a sweet, friendly-natured

The chaplain in his pyjamas, the glory of a tropic moon, a friendly-natured nymph ...

Islands, by-passing Samoa, be fore he took over as governor, with a mandate to prepare the Trust Territory for self determination. He understood that I would be in Fiji for Synod during Voelcker’s stay there and the latter was anxious to contact me.

During World War II Voelcker had commanded a Fijian Battal ion fighting the Japanese in the South Pacific. He had won the DSO and the MC. His associa tion with the Fijians may have been considered a qualification

for his appointment as adminis trator of the Trust Territory, specifically for the purpose of setting the initial machinery for “self-determination” in motion.

However, he had been serving, as an expatriate commanding of ficer, who had not grown up among the Fijians, and only pos sessed the military expertise necessary. This may have been a disadvantage, for there is a vast difference between the Fijian and the Samoan, the former having wider and more sophisticated contacts for years with other peo ple and races, living in a bigger group, and with different nation al characteristics and customs.

Voelcker was the nominee of the New Zealand Labor Government for which he had campaigned.

Then, too, he had to live down some of the past complexities of an administration which had to a great measure lost the confidence of many of the chiefs, who, being of a rather superior race, expected some degree of chican ery among themselves, indeed thoroughly enjoyed it, but did not expect it of expatriates ruling them. I have always felt that any antipathy that may have existed arose from the thought that New Zealand must be, in relation to the United Kingdom, a sort of vassal state, leading the chiefs to think of themselves as well “down the ladder” as vassals of a vassal state. Though the Labor delegation from New Zea land led by Mr Langstone gave them some hope of a new deal, some of the old chiefs would tell

me they felt Langstone, who appeared at odd times in a lavala va, did not impress them as being of chiefly class. Voelcker’s pre sence, his uniform and his deco rations, helped to bring a new image.

So often expatriates bring with them their idioms and thought processes, meaningful in their homeland, but open to misin terpretation in their new sphere.

Western Samoa, an isolated small territory and terribly paroc hial, seemed to interpret what we might consider trivia from a much more solemn angle. It was here that Voelcker made his first mistake.

In his first speech to the Fono Faipule (parliament) he urged a forgetfulness of the past and all its errors, and a “forward looking”, constructive approach to future understanding, coupled with hard work. He finished his excellent speech with “Hats off to the past, coats off to the future”, suiting action to word by taking off his military tunic and hanging it over his chair, stand ing there in his shirt sleeves. For

A London Missionary Society celebration in Western Samoa in 1945 marks 50 years of in volvement there by the society.

Whonsbon-Aston arrived just before these celebrations and describes in his memoirs the gentle undercurrents of rivalry between Anglican and LMS for unofficial recognition as the “State Church”.

a century and a half the coat, shirt, tie and walking stick were the status symbols of a gentle man and no one of any standing would think of attending church or some solemn assembly “un dressed”. Trivial it may seem to a European, but it was strictly “Non-U” to the Samoan at the time.

Voelcker felt he had a duty to educate the Samoan people to a goal of “self-determination”, though the great majority were not in any way interested in the matter. He gave addresses every Saturday evening over the radio, speaking of course in English.

Then on Mondays the two Fauta, Malietoa and Tamasese, would hold forth, but apparently without any guidance as to their subject. It must have been a nightmare to them seeking a theme and getting it into shape.

This came home to me particu larly when some of us climbed to the famous tomb to recite some of Stevenson’s prayers and re member the centenary of his birth. We were just a handful, joined by His Excellency the High Commissioner.

With the reputation “R.L.S.” had with regard to his love for the Samoan people and his fight for their rights, one would have thought the two fautua would have been primed to remember such a day. Instead both were left searching for a topic and filled in with some little stories from European fairy tales. A few days later, I asked Malietoa why he continued broadcasting on the radio. His reply was that he must educate his people.

I suggested that the strength of a big chief lay in his silence; King George spoke only when there was some great crisis that shook the world or at Christmas, but in Samoa tradition left it to the orators to talk to their hearts’ delight. It must have found a chord, for a few weeks later both the fautua were saved from furth er embarrassment.

During Voelcker’s term West ern Samoa Samoa i Sisifo began to see itself actually mov ing towards “self determination”. A Council of State had been set up consisting of the administrator and the fautua, a national flag had been

raised at Mulinuu amid great rejoicing, and a national anthem, locally written and scored by a local bandmaster, began to be sung with great gusto, especially by the hundreds of school chil dren (for more than half of the population were under 15). His Excellency the Administrator (to most people “the Governor”) be came the first High Commission er, a title that took a long time to sink in, for to many he was still “the Governor”, a term more significant.

Personally I have felt, and was moved to write so to the prime minister, that New Zealand, small in size and limited in fi nance, had done and was con tinuing to do, a splendid practical job, even if they had sometimes just “muddled through”. They might have been wiser had they, when they first accepted the mandate, asked for the second ment of some experienced colo nial adminstrator in the initial stages, a “know-how” that could have been a school for subse quent career administrations.

In March, 1949, Mr (later Sir) Guy Richardson Powles, later New Zealand’s first Ombuds man, arrived and assumed office as High Commissioner, to be reappointed again at the end of his first term for a further two years in 1954.

The soldier who was not a lawyer had departed and now

commemorated by a plaque in the new church.

There was no evidence of any “struggle” for independence, such as Home Rule in Ireland, nor were there any “freedom fighters” to rouse the populace; the Mau had done its job and was but a memory. In fact not many people even knew they were in the process of being “freed” or even thought they were shackled.

It never appeared to me that it was a political party matter. New Zealand, doing an excellent job in many ways, just wanted to get

Independence arrives quietly no freedom fighters, no evidence of struggle

came the lawyer, who had reach ed colonel’s rank in the war in the Pacific though he never paraded the fact. He, too, was an appointee of the Labor Govern ment of New Zealand, one would say, a Christian Socialist. His great old father, Colonel Powles, veteran of the Boer War and First and Second World Wars, would come to Samoa during the New Zealand winter, a grand old sol dier “of the old school”. He became attached to the services, at which he sang right lustily in the temporary church. He is

rid of the responsibility. What Labor initiated, the National (Conservative) Party carried along in its stride. The people were never really consulted save through their matais. However, whatever it meant, they have gone along with it. • • • I seemed to become involved nolens volens in the beginning and at several other points with the mystery of the loss in 1955 of the 70-foot fishing vessel Joyita.

It began when the children, nice lively Irish youngsters, of the

government doctor, burst in on me with “Will Sunday School be over before 11.15 because we want to see daddy off in the Joyitar Next morning as the dawn broke she was to be seen hull down well out to sea in its voy age to the Tokelau Group, under charter to the firm of E. A.

Coxon and Co., at the request of the government carrying a nor mal party of government officials on a routine visit to the atoll group. That was October 3, 1955.

On the Wednesday evening we dined with the Russells at their plantation a few miles further on from Faleolo Airport, returning to find a message to say that the Joyita was missing and that an aerial search by planes of the RNZAF would start at daylight next morning. Indeed, the search went on for many days without success and was eventually abandoned.

On November 9 news came that a passenger-cargo vessel, MV Tuvalu, returning from the Gilberts, had found the water logged abandoned Joyita off Vanua Levu, Fiji. There were some slight signs of a fire, not a soul aboard, ship’s papers and instruments gone, the thousand pounds in notes and silver like wise missing. Nor was there any sign of the 45 empty 44-gallon drums or the timber carried as

cargo. Her fate began to be equated with that of the Marie Celeste.

Joyita had been a private yacht of the United States Navy, built in 1931. It had been converted into a fishing vessel, with refrig eration and the holds lined with cork, helping to make her pract ically unsinkable. Owned by a Honolulu woman she had been chartered to Captain Thomas Henry (“Dusty”) Miller, of Car diff, Wales.

What happened to them all?

That is the mystery of the sea that has never been solved.

It was found most difficult to think of Captain Miller deserting his vessel. This was quite out of character. There was the mystery of the missing empty, floatable, 44-gallon oil drums and the tim ber, with which an excellent raft could have been made, and the 25 Tokelau people on board would have been thoroughly at home in the sea lashing them together. There seems to be no record of these washing-up on distant beaches. The ship, it was discovered, had no lifeboat, only three oval floats (never found).

There were life-jackets for all, but no effective radio.

Joyita was reconditioned after being sold in Fiji and was used on a copra run between the Vanua Levu coast and Levuka and Suva.

Some months later, Joyita met

her end. Coming from Savusavu on Vanua Levu and passing the end of the reef beyond Makogai, her skipper came on deck to alter course slightly, just in time, for she grazed the end of the reef, but with little damage. About 10 o’clock at night she landed two passengers at Levuka wharf and continued into heavy seas through the gap in the reef short

named the Malolo, brought along Robin Maugham (Lord Maugham), together with a Mr Savage, of New Zealand, to talk about the Joyita, about which Maugham hoped to write a book and also prepare a scenario for a film based on the Joyita, which he was arranging to purchase.

I put it to Maugham that it hardly seemed the right thing, so

Joyita: An unsolved puzzle, encounter with a reef, and a plan of exorcism.

ly to find herself in difficulties, between heavy seas and pumps that had reversed their opera tions. She struggled back into Levuka and beached at Nasova, near the government centre for the province, and never sailed again.

When I returned to Levuka as Archdeacon of Fiji in November, 1958, the Joyita seemed to fol low me. On August 16, 1961, Captain Frank Brown, then the owner and captain of the one time Royal Yacht of Queen Sa lote of Tonga, the Hifofua, re

near to the tragedy, to sear the minds of those bereaved. He assured me that he had no intent whatsoever and would avoid any such impression. I then suggest ed that one found it difficult to trust a Maugham after the way his uncle, Somerset, had ferreted out stories of people still living and had reopened old scandals and old sores. He asked “I sup pose you mean The Letter”. I agreed and I had also in my mind my old late friend, Sir Murchison Fletcher, Governor of Fiji, said to be the “Chinese official” in

Somerset Maugham’s The Paint ed Veil.

I was particularly concerned about one story that he would certainly hear on his coming visit to Samoa, a story with a dramatic savor someone seemed to have invented to depict a probable cause for the trouble aboard. Its

publication would certainly

cause great concern to a widow and delightful family. I wanted to avoid this.

He asked could I tell him about it. I decided I would only if he gave me his solemn promise that he would not use it under any circumstances. He gave me that word and subsequently his word (of the new aristocra cy!) was proved of no value whatever.

Unexpected circumstances

took me back to Samoa for two months and on my return through

The coastal ship Joyita was propped up on the beach (above) at Nasova in 1961 when Whonsbon-Aston, then Ar chdeacon of Fiji, was asked to conduct a ceremony of exor cism. In a mounting controver sy arising from published mate rial he did not go ahead with the suggestion. The picture above left shows the ship aground on Horseshoe Reef before being beached at Nasova.

Suva, staying at Bishop’s House, the bishop’s wife brought me a message from Lord Maugham, who had left for the UK, to ask if I would take a service of exor cism on the Joyita.

I was importuned then by tele phone calls, and Captain Brown himself came to talk to me about it. I said I would agree only after the ship was fully restored and certified seaworthy by the com petent authority, a properly qual ified skipper and engineer were in charge, and the bishop had issued the licence necessary in every such case in accordance with ancient Canon Law.

Bishop Kempthorne then re tired, after 39 years as bishop in Polynesia, to be succeeded by John Charles Vockler as third bishop, a tall handsome fellow, who, when resplendent in his cope and mitre, could look and fit the character of the moment like a medieval prelate, though at times he could appear as a humble suppliant at the Throne of grace. His real self seemed to be between the two when his best graces came out.

In the meantime a series of syndicated articles appeared from Robin Maugham in the Sydney Sunday paper, the Sun- Herald, in which it was men tioned that “the Archdeacon of Fiji had offered” to take a service of exorcism, which annoyed me.

I retired from the affair.

Soon after came a battle royal between the Lord Spiritual of Polynesia and the equally youn

gish Lord Temporal Maugham, all highly diverting. Maugham appeared to have called the Ar chbishop of Canterbury to his cause, and English ecclesiastical authorities on demon-possession and exorcism were called in. A perusal of the file in the Diocesan records is really interesting.

In the meantime an eccentric, but really competent, woman ar tist of worldwide renown settled temporarily (her stays were al way much on the pattern), Miss Edwell Burke, felt the Joyita should be permanently based ashore surrounded by bright flower beds, with teas served aboard.

I don’t know whether Maugham wrote with bitterness.

But I received a letter from a journalist friend in Salisbury, England, saying I should take an action for libel against Maugham, and then a letter from the one person I had hoped would be saved by my interven tion, a widow writing on behalf of her young and impressionable children, who had been wounded and disturbed by such a betrayal.

Of course I would not take any legal action, it might have en couraged people to buy the book, which was not by any means a literary triumph. Joyita, all this time sat in the comparative safety of the shore reef, buffeted by one hurricane, and overrun by chil dren and odd plunderers. • • • It was a day to be remembered.

That evening, John Martin, my choice, and a very good one, as my successor, was inducted and I was collated as Archdeacon of Fiji and, once again. Vicar of

Levuka in the line of the pioneer, William Floyd.

I had to return to Western Samoa four times in timfcs of crisis and twice to see my old friends, sadly decreasing in num bers as the years went by.

My packing done each farewell seemed a sad event. The last one occurred in 1958. His Excellency the High Commis sioner gave an open reception from 3.30 to 6.30 p.m., people coming at their own conveni ence. The scouts gave me an ornate and complicated-looking clock in a glass dome, a kindly thought, though I never found out how it worked. The guides gave me a small tanoa (a many legged bowl cut from a solid log used for kava).

The Returned Servicemen’s Club Committee had a small par ty for me. One member of the

committee, a hardened sailor, the Harbor Master, suddenly asked if he could say a word. I shall never forget his honest appraisal of my associations there.

In the early dusk a few even ings later, I was with a number of friends who were fare welling me on the wharf from which the passengers were ferried out to the ship, when the Harbor Master arrived with his boys.

I was not to be allowed to go aboard with the hoi pplloi, but was to be piped aboard from the Harbor Master’s vessel and an era, as they say, ended.

A few years later Samoa be came an independent sovereign state.

The damaged Joyita under tow in Laucala Bay off Suva.

Archdeacon Whonsbon-Aston In Suva with some younger members of the parish.